War of the One: Life of a Soldier [Sam 26]

[Brytan]

Brytan stood, awaiting the young lad to light up his torch. He awaited until it gave off a solid, steady flame before walking ahead of the ranks towards the dark forest. The wind carried unnerving sounds, edging on the end of his hearing. The forest ahead was dark and dense, with no visible path through the undergrowth.

"Hmm, if they think I'm going in there alone they're mad beyond their wits."

He stood for a while, several steps away from the branches and the shrubs. He looked to his sides to see if any of the other torch bearers had the same hesitation. But looking at the army stranded at this dreaded forest he couldn't help but wonder what they would be so afraid of. The shadows in his dreams, the shadows in his home had not scared him. They harmed Marissa and he would get them for it.

"What the Nether."

"For the One!" He stepped forward, reaching his torch into the undergrowth, looking for viable dry leaves and twigs to set alight. To drive away the darkness ahead of him. To clear a path he would burn a path.

[Gavin Tylvan]

Nothing came out of the foliage to attack the loyal soldiers of Dominicus. They approached slowly and with their eyes flicking about. Silence fell on the field as all the eyes watched them approach. Wind carried a scent of oil towards the forest and smoke of the torches drifted forward. The forest was still silent and unmoving.

As Brytan yelled and took a step forward so did the others. One youth even charged forward with a scream. Soon they were at the edge and the torches sought the kindling. Brytan found no dry leaves or twigs. It took him a good half a burn to get the leaves on the ground to catch. For a while there was only the smoke that wafted up. It took almost a burn for the first flames to appear. By then his eyes started to water from the smoke and his breathing grew labored. The forest was burning and as he watched the flames leapt as the fire dried the surrounding leaves and they took the flames.

Dranlen watched the approach of the flame bringers. For a while nothing happened. Then came first the smoke and soon after first crackling of flames followed. A cheer went out from one side and Dranlen almost missed a cry from the forest. "HELP! HELP ME! I AM TRAPPED! ONE, HAVE MERCY!" He could not see who it was, but it was clear the cry came a bit to the left from where he stood. From the forest.

[Brytan]

Brytan coughed as the smoke wafted up into his face. His eyes started to tear as he kept the torch in the undergrowth, diligently trying to get the stuff to light up. Soon enough it did however, and the flames started to rise up from the underbrush to the trees and into the foliage above him. He stepped back for a moment to gaze upon what he had done. Shadows flickering and fading out as the light of righteous fire grew ever stronger at the edge of the mighty forest.

And then he heard it, a cry for help. Being closer to the edge of the forest, but slightly deafened by the snapping of burning wood and the knispering of the leaves before him he could hear the cry come from somewhere behind the fire.

"There is someone in the woods? I don't recall seeing anyone go in. A trap?"

He had been at the front of the line, but the line was long and there may be scouts ahead who were now caught behind the flames. Flames which would soon engulf the entire forest as the trees dried from the violent flames eating away at it's edges. Could he really take the risk?

Brytan turned around to the rest of the army, a long line of armor and mindless stares gazing at the burning woods. He saw a few of the faces among them he had spoken to before.

"THERE'S SOMEONE CAUGHT IN THE FLAMES, GIVE ME A HAND!"

He beckoned to some of the soldiers to come give him a hand as he moved in the direction of where the sound had come from, looking for an opening in the treeline that hadn't yet caught alight and waiting for someone to accompany him inside. He was rash at times, but he wasn't a total idiot. The previous night had taught him valuable lessons...

[Langredoc]

OOC:

Back from vacation and have done a lot of other things. But it made it almost impossible to post. My excuse for that. But now I am back......


ic:

Langredoc had been caught in the thoughts and had stepped back from the others. While he took his time to order his thoughts and plans he watched the surroundings and cleaned his weapons.

Then he watched the beauty turning into the beast........ his stomach hurt and something that looked like fear settled on it. He only raised a eyebrow. Somehow he felt a little better facing the creature..... at least she was not a Adhiel woman begging for mercy. He forced himself to be ready for anything non the less.

Then the creature disappeared from the side of the captain, even before Langredoc had decided on anything he would do.

"He banished the demon. Dominicus is on our side.", the whispered words flowed through the ranks. He concluded it was better then the idea of that we all where cursed. But Langredoc seriously doubted that captain had anything to do with the disappearance of the creature. And Dominicus....well....not really.

The orders came and the march started..

No food, Langredoc concluded with a nagging feeling while he placed the helmed on his head and strapped it. No horse eighter was the next thought. He schrugged while they approached the woods.

He kept his weapons in their scabbards, if he had to move quickly they would only be a irritation and against arrows they where worthless anyway, if somebody was foolish enough to come near him he had time enough to get them out.

Eyes..... Langerdoc knew that they where watched... it could not be otherwise, he felt tense but kept himself in control. He hated to be a member of a mob in stead of a fighting team. Nobody here was part of any team, or it would be team Dominicus. And that could be a dead team soon....

He decided to stay with the guy called Brytan, moving in the man's shadow..he was big enough to stop some arrows if needed. The use of fire against the forrest was also something that did not make him happy, but for now he could do nothing against it. Just watching the flames grow. The words of the sergeant about pagans made him make a note in the back of his mind...."Kick the pagan up the Sergeant's ass.....when possible."

Then the guy decided to burn the forrest on his own. Langredoc was grateful for the fact that the helmed did hide his face. This was something that he did not like at all......

"HELP! HELP ME! I AM TRAPPED! ONE, HAVE MERCY!"

The sound of the voice made Langredoc react by pulling out his swords..
Then Brytan reacted with the words "THERE'S SOMEONE CAUGHT IN THE FLAMES, GIVE ME A HAND!"

A call that could not be denied so Langredoc stepped forward. Although something in the words made him wonder if this was really someone trapped...or something calling them.

So he just appeared at Brytan's side......

Interesting time's we live in..

[Gavin Tylvan]

Fire was picking up quickly. Crackling of flames was threatening to make one deaf to all other sounds. First red and yellow fiery hands were already reaching the boughs of the trees and the wind was driving it deeper. Heat was almost unbearable. And to think how the fire was slow to start at first and how it raged now. Creeping forward slowly the edge of flames left an ashen desolation behind it. An inch at a time it crept inward leaving nothing but ash and cinders in its wake.

As Brytan came to the source of sound, the flames were slowly forming a wall of fire in front of him. Langredoc was at his side in two steps and a few more soldiers rushed there too. The others were caught up in the moment and the cheers went on, muffling the cries for help, that were much clearer now. "HELP. PLEASE HELP. OH, FOR THE LOVE OF DOMINICUS. PLEASE DON'T LET ME DIE."

A single figure was barely visible through the haze of smoke and heated air at the edge of the forest. A lone, slim figure accompanied the voice that was begging for help. Racing this way and that, it seemed he could see no way out. The flames have not formed a single front yet, but they were on their way to do it. From the edge it was visible. From within the woods.... Well, one would have to enter to see what it was like from within the woods.

[Brytan]

Camping...

The woods around Roque were a place of peace and calm in the spring and summer. Away from the main roads there were some great spots where Brytan and his father would go when he was young. The rare moments when business was slow for the leatherworker and his son, they would some times go out to the forest for some fishing, hunting and swimming. A father teaching his son the basics of life.

One faithfull summer however, on a hot eveningtide, during a particular dry season, one of their campfires escaped it's confines and set the shrubs around their campsite on fire. In danger of torching the whole forest, his father and him had quickly taken up their knives and a small axe they used to get wood for their fire and cut down the dry undergrowth around the fire to stop it from spreading...

Time was running out. The fire was everywhere.

Brytan turned to the men that had rallied at his side, recognising Langredoc from their conversation earlier. "We need to get to him!" He shouted over the flames. "Cut away at the bushes, keep a path open as long as you can!" He dropped his torch on the ground, taking out one of his blades and cutting a long strip from his brand new Pax Honestus tabard, using it as a mask for his mouth and nose, tieing it behind his head. Brytan looked at Langredoc. "We don't know what's in there. Sounds like something else is on him! Let's go!" And with blades drawn he started cutting and pushing through the dense undergrowth, calling out into the darkness. "OVER HERE, THIS WAY! FOLLOW MY VOICE!"

[Langredoc]

Him ? Langredoc was not so sure it was a him. Panicing voices had a habit of sounding different. A faint smile played around his lips. Not that it changed much.

After placing a sword back to its rightful place his hand pulled his cloak from his backpack. He would need it to wrap the person in it to smother the flames. The sword sword in his other hand was ready while he followed Brytan. The sword got a blood red gleam from the reflection of the flames, a nice reminder of the Red Warrior.

He concluded that Brytan was ok, to bad that he made his life difficult by supporting Dominicus. Although so far he had no sore feelings towards Dominicus or any religion for that matter. But it seemed that his followers had the strange idea that there was only one god. A very odd idea indeed.

He raised his sword to greet the flames as where they a enemy, then he followed Brytan..

[Gavin Tylvan]

Daggers were never suited for cutting. They performed fairly nice when it came to food, but branches were not cooperating. They swayed under Brytan's strikes and only one in half a dozen strikes had any effect. The smoke on the other hand was getting thicker and thicker. Eyes began to water trying to cleanse the ashes and cinders that clung to their sensitive surfaces.

Air was getting harder and harder to breathe. That summer was rainy and the forest was lush and green. It showed in the abundance of smoke. The fire was slowly picking up in intensity as it dried the woods with its heat. Langredoc had more luck than Brytan. The sword hacked the branches easily, but the foliage was very thick. The figure in the forest screamed incoherently once more. "EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!" and then started moving away. Deeper into the woods.

The figure stopped as Brytan's voice called it back. It turned back and the flames lit his face. A youth of no more than fifteen stood as tears streaked down his soot covered face. His lower lip trembled and his hands were gathered to his chest. And he just stood, eyes opened wide, staring into the approaching flames.

Dereck was scared. His breeches were soiled as warm wetness spread down his legs. He never noticed that. All he could see were the flames. A wall of them. Separating him from the rest. IN the forest lurked the demons. Behind him the fire loomed. Please, please, please, Dominicus. Please don't let me die. I.... I.... I never should have joined. Curse you Ithan. He felt so brave when he screamed and ran into the woods waving the torch. He never noticed that the flames were closing behind him. And now he was trapped. With no way out. Oh, my God. I am going to burn. Like a pagan.

At first Michel was getting a bit nervous as he saw nothing except a bit of smoke. Was his plan a failure? Would the demon have thought of something against the fire? But then he saw the first flames. Flames which rapidly spread through the forest and created a nice wall of fire.

He grinned as the flames glittered in his eyes. But then he heard the soldier scream and saw a couple of men with him walk into the burning forest. By Dominicus, the fools!

He couldn't risk anyone else going in after them, the fire was burning to strong now. "STAND BACK!" He shouted to the legion and then turned his attention to the group cutting away at the branches. "GET BACK. THERE IS NOTHING WE CAN DO NOW. GET BACK BEFORE THE FIRE REACHES YOU!"

[Brytan]

Brytan stood amidst the flames, closing in around him. Eyes watering from the smoke and his breath heavy from the heat and soot in the air. He looked upon the youth standing meters away into the forest, frozen like a rabbit caught in the lantern light of an oncoming carriage. Behind him he could hear a voice calling them back. The flames underlined the statements made behind him.

"Dominicus will never forgive me if I let him die."

"STAY THERE, I'M COMING TO GET YOU!"

He looked at Langredoc, who had more success than he had had cutting branches and twigs. "Keep a path clear as long as you can, we'll need that cloak of yours soon." And without looking back he thrust himself into the dense foliage, rushing as fast he could to the young man standing in fright before the flames.

"If the pagans won't come to Ottavio, then Ottavio will have to go to the pagans..."

He went forward, hoping and praying to the One that he could grab the kid and pull him to safety before the flames thoroughly engulfed the edge of the forest.

[Langredoc]

Langredoc was aware of the words of the officer. "STAND BACK!" The man shouted to the legion and then turned his attention to the group cutting away at the branches. "GET BACK. THERE IS NOTHING WE CAN DO NOW. GET BACK BEFORE THE FIRE REACHES YOU!"

So he looked at the flame's who moved in at a alarming pace. Smoke entered his lungs and he coughed.

The flames are to fast, and the guy to far away..... if we go in we are going to die..

Actually death did not really bother Langredoc..... a stupid death was something that he would refuse. Its against the first rule of being a warrior... stay alive.

So he concluded that this was a lost cause...so now the second rule would follow, keep the others alive as well.

The man called Brytan called out "STAY THERE, I'M COMING TO GET YOU!"

The man is going to hate me for this...

He had no time to bother much about the guy who was about to die and the hurt feelings of the man called Brytan. This was a matter of survival, in a war you win or lose. And those who lose ......die. Langredoc would not die, nor would Brytan, not today.

Draytan said "Keep a path clear as long as you can, we'll need that cloak of yours soon." and wanted to trust himself in the flames to get the kid.
But Langredoc grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back.

"No time...now we have to stay alive." he said. And pushed him back to the edge of the forest, prepared to use force if needed, to bring the guy out alive. He would use the cloak to cover him up. Hit his head if he would resist and drag his stubborn corpse out of the fire.

The man is going to hate me for this...

[Dranlen]

Dranlen had heard the cries ahead of him, and he watched as others ran into the flames in what appeared to him to be a vain attempt at a rescue. He was rooted to the spot, he could not move, the flames reminded him of a hut burning in his village, the scream of the old woman trapped inside, unable to escape, unwilling to be rescued it has been terrible. This was not the war he had seen himself fighting in, he had expected combat, swift and brutal. Death by fire was horrific and the memories of the nightmares that followed the incident were remembered.

He prayed to Dominicus, for the first time in several years to save the poor creature who was trapped.

Finally he saw that the captain was right, the lad could not be saved, his only chance was flight. The fire would spread quickly, but if he made a stream he might have a small chance.

"Run! Find a stream and then the river and you have a chance, Dominicus go with you."

His inactivity he realised to this point had bordered on cowardice and he did not like to think of himself in that way. He resolved to prove himself for the next challenge that lay ahead. Yet he still shuddered as he watched the fire claim the forest, it seemed so dry as though the life had already been sucked from it.

OOC Apologies for the delay in responding, I'll try and keep up weekly at least. Work has gone manic in the last two weeks again.

[Brytan]

"What the! By Jaxis' beard, let me go!"

"He's gonna die, he's gonna burn."

Brytan struggled for moments as Langredoc grabbed him, but the strength of the man far outweighed his own. His words sounded in his ears as more and more leaves and branches took flame and the heat became unbearable. He turned to face Langredoc, tears and anger in his eyes. He looked back to watch the young boy standing there in dread, but meters away.

"Dominicus, forgive me."

He followed as Langredoc forced him out of the flames, shielding himself and Brytan with his cloak until they reached safety. Nothing he could do. The flames closing around them as they reached towards the burning edge.

"Dominicus, forgive us all."

[Gavin Tylvan]

Sergeant Dreylen saw that his Commander was right. It would be foolish to go into the forest. Those that did would have fire at one side and demons on the other. Which would be better? The Sergeant stepped forward and turned to face the legion. "You heard the Commander! Any one of you bastards even thinks of disobeying and I will seek you out and kill you myself!" His face was calm, and his voice carried quite a long way.

The flames died down in front of Brytan as he surged forward. The way was there. Only his feet would be scorched. Langredoc pulled him back and as they struggled the flames roared back into life even higher than before. They reached the lower branches of the trees now and leaves, already dry from the fire bellow them, caught the fire quickly. The boughs almost exploded in a fiery blast and all of a sudden the fire was above Brytan and Langredoc. Not a flicker passed before first cinders started falling on top of them, still burning as they fell. First burns started to explode in pain as the fiery pieces touched their exposed skin.

A sharp shriek sounded from the sky. Those with sharp eyes could see a single black dot high above the ground. An eagle soared up high and its sharp eyes gave him an unsurpassed view of the scene. A ragged line of troops stood at the edge of the forest and waited. The large bird of prey still circled high above perplexed at what were they all doing trampling over high hunting grounds. Scaring away its prey. First wisp of smoke appeared. Many followed that one. Mere burns have passed before hot air changed the currents the eagle was gliding upon and started pushing him upward. Even his mighty eyes had trouble sorting out through details as he was pushed ever up. It did however see the moment when flames blossomed on top of them forest. It took but a flicker for them to spread outward and to explode into a sea of flames threatening to engulf the entire forest at an amazing pace.

Down on the ground, Dereck heard the voices. Coming for me. Stay here. Right. He almost collapsed to the ground as his knees buckled. No matter how warm it got, cold sweat still ran down his spine. He waited. Smoke bit his eyes and he could not see his rescuer. The lad blinked and his vision cleared. He saw not one, but two men. They were struggling. Moving away. No. Please no. Don't leave me. His throat was dry. Sore. Dereck tried to scream, but no sound came out.

Warmth thudded from above and he could see the flames there. A panicked turn showed him they there were flames everywhere. Head jerked this way and than. Trapped. Need to run. Where? In his turn he lost his rescuers. That three looks familiar. There. Shapes. And he ran. Ran for his life.

Dereck was still visible from the edge of the forest where Brytan and Langredoc stood. His panicked turn. His dash in the wrong direction. The moment he fell face first into the flames. His rise. Dash in another direction. Another fall. A branch that fell on his back pinning him to the ground.

Even the eagle heard the shrill scream that rose from Dereck's throat. A scream that could not have, SHOULD not have come from human throat. A scream that died in a whimper. Just as Dereck burned far bellow. Alone. Abandoned.

[Dranlen]

Dranlen heard Dreylen's words and recognising the wisdom moved not from his assigned station. His eyes however followed the path of the two brave soldier who had ventured into the fire in a vain attempt at a rescue of the young lad who had tried to flee. Dranlen was incredulous when he first started to run towards the flames, but the panic that had been instilled in the young lad was plain to see and the result was an inevitable tragedy. He shuddered silently at the pain and sadness of the premature death of one so young and tears welled up partially from the acrid smoke that filled the air about them but also at the wasted life that was burnt to ash before them. He wondered how many more might meet a similar death before they were through, for the forest had lit like a pitch torch and appeared aflame in an instant. The heat was intense and he took a step back as the flames flared in front of him.

He waited, a single tear slowly trickling down his face as he waited for the order that would come next. Eager to help those two who emerged valiant, yet unsuccessfully from the forest. Hoping that he might aid them in some way, but unwilling at the moment to break the sergeants command.

[Michel Carbonneau]

The flickers of silence before the scream seemed to be burns. But when it started, time stood still. The scream went right through his bones, sending a chill up his spine. Yet he refused to close his eyes, he refused to blink. He had done the right thing, he was sure of it. This was war.

When the screaming died down, Michel gave the next order. Pointing at Dranlen he said. "You, go help them to get back."
Then he turned to his sergeant. "Sergeant Cleyden. Get me someone who can write. Make sure he writes down that an innocent life has been taken here and that we will have a ritual to secure his passing to the lands of the One once we have set camp."

Having seen the demon in it's true form standing right in front of him, having felt her power, Michel had become harder. More persistent to fight the Nether. The king had seemed weak opposed to the demon. Michel had not been able to do much either, but at least he hadn't frozen up...

[Dranlen]

"Yes Sire", the order was direct and Dranlen's feet were moving before he realised the import of the orders. "Run into the fire and help them". Fire and fear were synonymous with each other and yet Dranlen refused to back down and let the cold shudder of fear overwhelm. His eyes focus on the two soldiers who had bravely entered and ran towards the edge of the forest. He had no water with him but his shield might offer some protection from the burning strands that fell from the treetops a few feet ahead. Lifting the shield above him to offer some protection he strode quickly forward towards the two men and helped lead them from the forest, offering to shelter the smaller, less protected man with the wooden circle. He knew that to draw deep breathes would be fatal so his breath was shallow.

He wanted to speak to them but thought that actions spoke louder than words and aimed to help Langredoc bring the smaller man back out of the forest as quickly as possible.

[Brytan]

Brytan and Langredoc emerged from the flames, him still being held by Langredoc. Thoughts shooting through his head. The terrifying scream of the young man had torn a new scar across his heart. It reminded him of the sadness he had heard in the voice of Lord Souived when he heard his wife had been slain. The sound of abandonement and anger. The sound of death added an entirely new dimension to the concept of pain in Brytan's mind. He resented himself for it.

Dranlen approached them, shielding both men with his shield as they walked back towards the ranks of men, his eyes and breathing relieved as they exited the flames, Brytan collapsed on the ground, coughing and wheezing from the searing heat and the choking smoke. He cried. Tears brought on by the smoke and soot, but also by anger and pain. When his vision cleared some and he had gotten his breath, he stood up again, shaking off any aid he might receive. He tore the scrap of his tabard from his face, his eyes burning with a new fire as he looked at Langredoc.

"You..." Brytan tried to speak, but he fell to another coughing seizure. As it passed, eyes watering still, he merely turned his gaze towards the forest, sheething his weapon back into the small leather scabard between his belt.

"The eagle soars on the flames of destruction. Perhaps the souls of the fallen will be carried to the Aether with him." He thought as he stood there. Eyes fixed on the fiery onslaught, ignoring the world around him. His life had been saved at the cost of another. "At one point, I'll have to even the score."

[Langredoc]

Dragging the young man away from the fires was far more easy then Langredoc expected. The screams of the young man dieing made him feel angry... in a way he had failed. But guilt was not something he carried for long as it was a to heavy a burden, he could not have done anything so there was no reason to feel bad about it anyway. He was more worried about the young man Brytan at his side who would not take this lightly... at least Brytan could blame someone else for his inability of saving the lad.

The shield of Dranlen was much appreciated as it was more effective in shielding them off the heat. The cloak had started to become more of a burned rag then a cloak in itself. Suddenly the flames where replaced by more or less fresh air and the itch in his throat turned into a fit of couching while he felt relieved when his lungs filled up with the less polluted air.

Brytan collapsed on the ground beside Langredoc and he released the grip on the young man. He removed the helmet and his eyes calm as ever focused on the young man.

"You..." Brytan tried to speak, but he fell to another coughing seizure.

Langredoc nodded to the young man turned his head after a few flickers towards Dranlen and said "Thank you for helping us.." while he started to put away that what remained of his cloak. After finishing packing his eyes returned for a short while to the face of Brytan.. he knew that the young man would have to say more words then only "You". Langredocs own face reflected no emotion while he waited for the reaction of the young man. This was no time for emotions, emotions could kill a man faster then a arrow if it would distract a man long enough. His eyes already started searching for new hidden dangers, this was a battlefield afteral, and his guts told him that this was just the beginning.

Welcome to war Brytan, the how to lose people game.. he thought.

Where is the danger hiding ? Its way to silent... something is wrong I just know it.

He kept his hands close to his weapons. Well at least someone is giving orders around here.

[Gavin Tylvan]

As the scream died, a silence fell all over the field. Flickers passed and no sound was heard. Even Sergeant Dreylen lowered his head. Old veterans have a heart too. People are not supposed to die like this. Who the Hell thought this one up? How many more will burn today? He said nothing, though. Just coughed and rose his eyes to his Captain. Waiting for a command. Waiting for something to do.

Michel did just that. He broke the silence. Woke the men from their shock. "Yes, Sir. Corporal Atix, get over here." A thin, pale young men stepped somewhere from the lines and stood at attention before the Sergeant. "Captain needs your skills. Get you quill and get back here." A crisp salute and Atix was away.

Dranlen was indeed fortunate to have carried a shield. The wood of his shield hissed as embers touched it, but that was all. Langredoc and Brytan were not so lucky. Their skin was covered in small burn marks before they made their way from under the burning eaves of the forest. It clung to the skin, burning fiercely for a flicker or two. Trying to remove them only rubbed it in deeper and made the pain worse. It was better than being burned alive. Like Dereck was.

Once out of the fire and smoke, the damage to their lungs became apparent. Throats felt like open wounds. Eyes watered and stung. And lungs burned from the inside and contracted at odd intervals causing coughing fits. If the condition became permanent it might really become a problem. For now it was the problem. Only time would tell if they would have to live with it for the rest of their lives.

As the trio emerged, Sergeant Cleyden barked a few orders and several men left the line. Brytan and Langredoc each got a man supporting them as they walked and a man with the Corporal markings offered a cantine to them. "Here. Take this. It's water. Take a bit into your mouths, but don't drink. Try to gargle it a bit in your throat. Spit it out a few times before you swallow. Cleanse your throats first." A pair of blanket was spread near the front of the line and they were steered in that direction.

Atix soon apparead at Michel's side as silently as the first time. "Captain?" was all he said. Another man ran to Captain's other side and stood there panting, offering a rolled up piece of parchment. "Captain.... message....from....the....King.... Orders...." He leaned on one knee while still holding the message to the mounted man.

[Michel Carbonneau]

The adrenaline in Michel's body made him fully focussed now. He didn't think longer then a flicker about every decision he was making. He was trusting his instincts. Not that he had much choice in the matter, things were moving much to fast to have proper time to think things through.

He grabbed the orders from the man's hand, but did not open them yet. Instead, he spoke to sergeant Cleyden. "Sergeant, try to get a healer here so that he can have a look at our men." Then he switched his attention to the writer. "Atix, write this down. An innocent life has been taken in the Pax Honestus sector and we will have a ritual to secure his passing to the lands of the One once we have set camp."

Without waiting to see if all of his commands were properly done, he now opened up the parchment and started reading the orders. He wondered what new idea's the king had planned. Somehow he always had the feeling new orders were not good news.

[Langredoc]

Never complain that chainmail is heavy... Langeredoc thought while he removed his helmet. His body and face had been protected from the sparks flying around. But when he touched his lips he realised how hot the air had been. Tiny blisters surrounded his lips and made it into a painfull mess.

No kissing the girls for a while. Damned !

When he checked his body he found more blisters on his legs, where it had been hot enough to create them. And there he had not been so well protected. His clothing was... not in a good shape anymore.

He accepted the water gladly and pored it over the burning places.

This ....war is becoming a nuisance, I should get away from it for a better paid place and more enjoyment... then blisters......

He growled and coughed again, spitting black soot out of his throat. Then he rinsed his mouth several times, before taking a large draught.

This can not be healthy...

When he noticed that they where guided to some blankeds he rougly refused.

"Hell, I am not really wounded, just annoyed. Nothing that some ointment can't heal."

Although he was very well aware that the next days would not be comfortable.

[Dranlen]

Dranlen brief nod of respect to Langredoc acknowledged his thanks politely, there was little point in saying much more. Speech for the two was difficult and he needed to clear his own lungs of the smoke. He also checked himself for any embers that might catch and made sure that his shield was also not in danger of further damage.

He took some of the proffered water and followed the instructions, his throat was raw and though he knew the damage was far less than the other two it still felt as though it would be a painful exercise to eat much more than gruel. He could only imagine the agony the others faced, despite the display of stoicism that Langredoc showed.

The captain had impressed Dranlen so far, and he only hoped that he would impress him in turn when further opportunities came. Following orders was expected in an army, so far he had done nothing remarkable, in fact it was Langredoc he felt who should measure himself against in terms of bravery and speed of thought. The man seemed confident and he wondered how long it would be before the foreigner was noticed. Although they were all foreigners here he pondered.

[Brytan]

Brytan tore his gaze free from the flames which were consuming the forest as Dranlen and Langredoc passed along the water and used it to free their eyes and throat of the heat that was scorching from the inside. He took the water as Dranlen finished and washed his eyes out and gargled the soot from his throat, and the burning sensation in his throat, hoping it would diminish.

He looked at the men that stood beside him, that had dragged him from the flames. One life for the sake of another. Brytan was unsure if he should thank them or despise them. "So this is what war is like."

Instead of speaking, wearing out his scorched throat, he tried to swallow some water after it felt a bit better. He looked at their captain who was reading some new orders rushed in from the king himself. He poured some of the last drops over the burns on his hands and arms and handed the container back to it's owner. "Thanks." he managed to say hoarsely.

"Hell, I am not really wounded, just annoyed. Nothing that some ointment can't heal." Langredoc spoke. "Boastfull character. A man died and you are playing tough." Brytan turned to Langredoc, voice still coarse. "You may have saved my life..." he started, "but next time, when you feel like questioning my abilities, think twice if your own life is dear to you." He gazed into the flames again. He could feel his soul scorch like the dieing trees.

[Gavin Tylvan]

"Yes, sir." Those two words were all Atix said. He wrote the words his Commander uttered and presented it to him for review. Scribbling on the paper held no meaning to Michel, just like those orders he stared at moments ago. Literary education was not that important to a soldier, but a commander should at least know how to read the signs on the map. Sadly, while Michel seemed to recognize a few of the letters, the whole of the message held no meaning to him.

Langredoc's boasts were cut short by Sergeant Cleyden. "Sit your butt over there and remain sitting. Is that clear?" He was not really yelling. He was just speaking in a sergently manner. That way of speaking is just of a higher volume than normally encountered. A man in grey robe followed the Sergeant, carrying a bundle wrapped in leather under his arm. A pair of lenses stood at the top of his nose and a large symbol of Dominicus hung about his neck.

Casting casual glances on the two men, he approached Brytan first and helped the soldiers lower him down on the blanket. His voice was calm and soothing. And gentle, just like his hands. "Open you mouth please." As he waited for the man to comply the healer unrolled his bundle and fished a mirror out of it. Slanting it so it reflected the sun into Brytan's mouth he examined his throat for quite a while. "It is not good, but it will heal. The burns are not too bad." He turned to the boy that accompanied him and whispered something into the lads ear before moving to Langredoc.

"So, big man, you claim you are unhurt. Allow me to judge that. Alright?" While his urgings were gentle, the soldiers that were helping were not. The Sergeant gave an order. It would be carried out. Once the mercenary was seated, the old man approached and smiled. "Good thing you wore all that armor. Now open wide for old Basil, and don't be silly. I am just doing my duty." He waited for the man before him to open his mouth before he examined him in the same manner as he did to Brytan.

By the time he was done, the boy returned carrying several small flasks with him. "Luckily I prepared as soon as I heard we will be burning the forest." He addressed the both as the boy handed a bottle to each along with a small pot. "Now, the pot contains the healing salve for the burns. Rub it in gently every two hours today and then re-apply in each morning. The burns should go away in a day or two. Mind you, there might be some scars. Especially on you lad." He finished looking at Brytan.

Pointing towards the bottle the old man continued. "The bottle contains something I think might help soothe your throats. It is sticky and thick, but you have to drink it. It will be foul, but try not to drink anything for at least half a mark afterwards. It will do you good. I don't see any permanent damage, but you should mind yourself for the rest of the day. No running and no fighting. I'll come to check up on you later."

The smoke did have that effect on people. Breathing was hard and it seemed like they could not draw enough air into their lungs no matter how much they tried. Their throats burned and even water seemed to enflame the tender flesh there. Just like a strong alcoholic liquor. The healer said it will pass. Whether that was true or not only time would tell. The liquid he gave them was indeed thick and oily. It clung to the sensitive flesh and as it seeped lower it made their breathing easier. Pain slowly dulled a bit and breathing was much easier.

Salve smelled strongly of herbs and it felt cool to the touch. A bit too watery to cling well to the wounds it evaporated quickly, but it meant that it seeped the warmth away and dulled the pain. How much it helped with the actual wounds was unknown, but Basil said it would help. He spoke calmly, and did examine them. How good he was was anybody's guess.

In the meantime Sergeant approached Dranlen and nodded. "Well done, lad. Well done. Now, get two other men and go dig a grave in the back of the line. Once the fire retreats we will see if we can find some remains to bury. Though I doubt it. You will find the tools in the wagon over there." He pointed to a spot near the back of the line where the top of a heavily laden wagon was barely visible over the heads.

[Dranlen]

Dranlen looked over at the commander, wondering what the new orders would bring, clearly they were of a complex nature as it seemed he was deep in thought.

"Yes sergeant."

Dranlen wondered who the soldier had been who had died, he did not know him, but perhaps the sergeant did.

"Sergeant, do you know who it was so that I can mark the grave?"

They would not need a large grave, as there would be little left from the forest fire he suspected. In fact he wondered what they would find at all. Orders were orders however and he waited patiently for Brytan and Langredoc. The ground was soft but he decided to fetch but a single spade and pick in case the ground grew harder. As they moved to the rear he spoke to initially to Brytan.

"It was a brave thing to try to rescue that man, but I fear there will be many more lives lost before we finish. I will be happy to dig the grave to let you rest, as the healer ordered, but you may feel you wish to break the earth for his final journey."

Turning to Langredoc he spoke further

"Langredoc, likewise, though happy to share the work it might be best for you to rest for a while to let the ointment work, I suspect that if we are called to battle you would not refuse and the better rested the greater our chances of success."

"However I wonder what those fresh orders brought, after all the forest will probably burn for a while, so I can't see us waiting here for that long, what do you think."

Dranlen assumed that they would collect the tools and start the grave without much delay, once a suitable place had been found.